


Three sentence stories (wintery style)

by winterysomnium



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M, M/M, canon character death, for egypt AU: mentions of inner organs, for the pokemon AU: mentions of abuse and death of animals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1890279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterysomnium/pseuds/winterysomnium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fills; anything and everything</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sleeping beauty AU;DamiTim

**Author's Note:**

> prompt by varevare/varebanos: WAIT another idea, damitim sleeping beauty AU

It’s been about: two weeks into the immediate journey, half a day of decapitating an army of sweet scented, stubborn roses, in the shade of cracked lips and about three (castle enclosed) hours, since Damian stopped giving a fuck. 

(So _honestly,_ it’s no wonder he’d rather punch this prince’s mouth instead of kissing it, isn’t it?)

But he’d said that he’d prove himself, he’d said he would resurrect this undead, young royalty, dozing for years, though, really, that doesn’t mean he won’t: complain, first — _Hey, hey_ **you,** _what if you simply **woke up**  do I **really** have to touch mouths with you you’ve been lying here for **years** and honestly your hospitality is dubious at the least I could have used at least a **hint** of a cleaning facility I have dirt all the way in my **undergarments** —_, complain, some more, second — _of course you would pick the curse where you don’t have to say a **word** —_, and then just _do it,_ third.


	2. pokemon AU;JayTim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by anon: pokemon and jaytim;Tim is a member of a special police department dealing with the misuse and abuse of pokemon, Jason is a kind of well known trainer#and they meet through a case Tim is working on, the case is underground battles to the death, with modified pokeballs and special drugs to make the animals aggresive

It seems a bit unreal that it came to _this,_ to Tim’s belt void of any life, all of his pokémon safer at his apartment, nestled in their homes, his stunt gun an unfamiliar weight to carry, Jason’s curses shallow hisses as the gun kisses his spine and it’s difficult to breathe through, difficult to swallow that the person he’s trusted, the person who revealed this address, shared these names, that this person Tim admired for his raw honesty — was at the center of this, all this time.

It stings and Jason swears as Tim presses harder, holding his capture, holding his mouth to steel officer brochures and it’s easier when he’s surrounded by blood, by months of drugged animals, _companions,_ corpses at the bottoms of barrels and there’s a stir of a fight at the dock and –

“Jason Peter Todd, senior trainer of Gotham City, you are under arrest for severe —” but then he’s: cut off, his wrist encircled by Jason’s knuckles, curled into a fist, a tower of fingers and Jason steals the second handcuff, dangling from his own wrist, chains them together and says: “I’ll _show_ you, Tim; I’ll show you how it is.”     


	3. Toddlers & Tiaras AU;Mar'iDami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted by hybryda: 1. Mar'iDami 2. toddlers&tiaras AU : D

Clouds of perfume, miniature mountains of candy and too much noise — that’s how Damian would describe the event he’s been dragged into this afternoon, completely unwilling and through careful manipulation and why he has to be _Robin_ to Mar’i’s _Batgirl_ is beyond him, but Grayson gives him a thumbs up (even though he looks as comfortable as Damian _feels_ , surrounded by crinolines and ambitious mothers with little to no amicability or sympathy, meaning: not one damn bit) and Kori is smiling in the same way Mar’i can when she’s content or just succeeded in doing a very clever prank but it’s like not that could make Damian feel less grumpy, or even actually make him _enjoy_ this little ( _big_ ) ridiculous disaster in pink.

But then Mar’i grabs his hand, adjusts the corner of his domino and says, in a very grown up, very mischievous (but _utterly honest_ ) way: “You look quite handsome today.” and Damian’s skin burns under a fierce, strategically covered ear-blush, and he answers, not looking meeting her eyes at all — “I guess you look acceptable today, as well.”


	4. raising a child;JayTim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted by anon: could you do a writting thing with jaytim where they are raising a baby boy? maybe jay or tim found the kid on the streets abandond or something

Jason casually using his bedroom window at four am, stripping his hands of gloves and sticking his bare, ice cube, wintercold fingers under Tim’s shirt and thoroughly enjoying his yelp isn’t anything new, isn’t anything recent or even _remotely_ surprising but when he actually stops several inches before Tim’s bed, says: “Shh, I know, I know, you’re hungry, I _know.”_  in a very hushed, very low murmur and then nudges Tim with his knee, sheepish shoulders bathed in Gotham grey moons, a very plastic, very loud 7-11 bag clinging to his forearm, a small, deeply nestled _bad feeling_ settles into Tim’s gut. 

"So you know how you always wanted a dog …" Jason starts, pauses to soothingly cradle the bundle made out of his own shirt — the very one Red Hood wears for patrol — tucked around something very _alive,_ something very _in motion;_ follows with “and you know how they say having a dog is practically like having a baby…” and then there’s a small cry, tiny and definitely _not_ a puppy noise and with another low, smooth coo from Jason, Tim suddenly regrets not paying more attention in home ed class.

(If he did, maybe he’d actually remember how to change a diaper.)    


	5. egypt AU;DamiTim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted by varevare/varebanos: egypt AU with damitim ~~~~

Enough of salty, bitter water has slipped past his eyelashes, down to his chin, to turn Nile into a sea, into an ocean of heartache, Timothy knows, but  even after long hours of grief, of sweet scents that suit Damian’s skin so well, of Damian’s heart waiting for the road to his life after this world, after _Tim_ , Timothy cannot throw out the tremble that arrested his fingers, his hidden bones and showing skin, can’t shake out of the stillness of his numb chest, and only after minutes of weary waiting, of thinning hopes, does he lower the hook to Damian’s nose, ready to destroy the beautiful, haunting thoughts, decomposing within the confines of Damian’s skull.

But as his courage sinks and his elbow raises suddenly he’s captured _again_ , stuck in his violent pose of debris and dirt as Damian grabs his bones, shows his eyes and breathes a cough and Timothy wonders if _he’s_ the one that has died, if he’s the one whose intestines are being replaced, right at this moment, filled with myrrth and natron and if it’s his own heart that is about to be devoured by Ammit, by his sharp mouth a rough jaws but then Damian rises, then he cups his ashen face, his crumbling shoulders and speaks, _talks_ “beloved; _beloved_ , I am undead yet again” and Timothy suddenly understands Damian’s fierce words of the night before, the night before he has died, the night before his steps flickered with blood and his fingertips left a line of promises drying on Tim’s lips, the night before  Tim had wished to hear them again, to fully grasp their meaning (and now he does).

(“ _With my heart, with my eyes and my mouth, so will my status die, and after my status dies with me, I won’t be alive but undead, I won’t be this world’s but theirs, I won’t be anyone’s, but_ yours _._ ”)  


	6. first kiss;JayTim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted by anon: If you are still taking prompts how about jaytim first kiss.

Jason’s been thinking about it, has been _(thoroughly)_ pondering upon the difference between: fighting crime in tentative partnerships, fighting for the last strip of bacon, in battles of forks and not admitting to having any ( _none,_ not at _all_ ) fun, wonders how adding fights for a blanket could change the equation, weights if Tim’s worth the commitment, if he’s worth the _danger,_ if a honest to god, proper relationship is something they could _handle_ but then they’re in the middle of a brawl, Tim uses his arm to connect a jump and it’s a gesture that makes Jason feel disturbingly safe, makes him feel trusted and desired and _here,_ like he’s somewhere detached from Gotham, from her humid, abandoned streets, reeking of processed alcohol and simmering crimes and this one dies out quickly, just as the last guy thuds to the ground, Tim’s boot responsible for a loose tooth (or two) and then he’s glancing his way, wipes his chin from a touch of blood and  _fuck_ , this is _ridiculous_  and Jason grasps for the back of Tim’s head, grasps for the suprised gasp and the _volunteer_ in it and he’s going to kiss him, he’s going to kiss the fuck out of him _right now_ and he presses him close, fast and precize and —

 _"Ow_ what the _hell,_   _Jason_ I think you just broke my nose!”

and — oh,  _shit_

(He’s still wearing his helmet.)


	7. coffee shop AU;DickTim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted by varevare/varebanos: coffee shop AU with DickTim?

Week one and the kid brings a book on anatomy thicker than his wrists, leans its spine onto the corner of the table and rests it against his thighs, a look or two shyly lingering at Dick’s heels after he orders, Dick self-labels him as a med student and gives him an extra cookie, goes with a foamy pattern of a cartoony puppy for his double shot cappuccino and sees him snap a picture of it, sees him tuck the extra cookie — carefully wrapped up in a napkin — into a pocket sewn to the front of his backpack and he leaves with a nice tip and a soft “goodbye”, a studded belt hiding under his baggy hoodie and Dick catches himself thinking about him later, at home, dribbling milk all over his kitchen counter (damn these shallow spoons).

 

Week two and he brings a _book of knives:history, anatomy, damage_ and Dick relabels this kid either dedicated or a murderer, pours a soothing floral pattern onto the milk and the kid asks if “you have the cake with chilli today too, or is it just a Wednesday special?” and Dick answers “a special” but brings him a piece anyway because he’s always: polite, pretty cute, and can’t _not_ get crumbs onto his mouth to save his life which colors it a red Dick hasn’t seen before, can’t help but think of how it might spread to his mouth too, if he would kiss those chilli spotted lips but the thought ends there and he won’t look for too long and won’t offer more than a welcoming, ordinary barista  should  (or has he _already_?) but then on Friday he’s there, typing up a paper, barely letting his fingers rest as he sips at his drink and he doesn’t notice when the sun slinks to his elbows or when he’s the only person left in the room tonight, they are closing in ten minutes and when he _does_ look up when slumbery silence properly settles into the corners of the cafe he jumps up, frantically starts cleaning up his laptop and repeats “ _oh my God, I’m so_ sorry _,  everyone knows you’re supposed to leave like 30 minutes before these close I’m so sorry_ —” and sheepishly helps with the clean up as much as he can, bringing forgotten cups on a borrowed tray and Dick tells him it’s _completely unnecessary_ but the kid is relentless and that’s how he ends up walking home with him, four blocks and two thirds of a street at nine in the evening, that’s how he learns his name ( _Tim_ ) and that Tim: “majors in forensic science, actually” and also realizes that Tim’s voice spreads a pleasant warmth through his toes, that the foggy, faint line of his shoulders is a picture he’s painting unconsciously within his fingers.

And at week three, Dick paints his masterpiece ( _1-731-192-457; movie?_ ).


End file.
